You were Always the One
by Mon3lisa
Summary: Ed is always behind his little brother. One-sided Elricest


You were Always the One

Summary: Ed is always behind his little brother. [One-sided Elricest

Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist (c) Hiromu Arakawa

Rate: PG

Warnings: One-sided Elricest, post-Episode 49 spoilers

Author's comments: Merry Christmas, ReigningFyre! XD

The bit where Ed mentions the hospital scene comes from the manga so, just to clear that up yes, they do spar and that's what solves their "Did you create my soul, Brother?" fight. Sorry for the spoiler ¦ D Wait, it shouldn't be…you, my reader, ARE reading the manga, right…?

sorry for the angst .. if you want me to write something fluffy/smutty/whatever, I gladly will but you're gonna have to give me a theme. rofl, what am I doing, writing angst for god's sakes ¦ D what a person I am -D-;

Sorry if this is written poorly. I keep on double-checking but I don't think I did a good job oo don't worry, Ra! I'll write that extra fluff fic of your own theme choice and yeah, super. XD

enjoy

* * *

You were always the one who cried more than me, even when we both got the same boo-boos. After a bandage or two, I had to help you stand up while Mom put the box away. It felt strange straightening your knees after having a tight bandage packed over the shredded skin, but I gritted my teeth and said nothing. You slightly whimpered and clutched my dirty sleeves tighter and when you finally let go to take some uneasy steps, I always felt a bit unstable without your small clutches. Then I'd hobble after you, take your hand and lead you outside again.

You were always the one who obediently drank his milk and getting an over-exaggerated praise from Mom from it, expecting me to be jealous of the attention you got in return. I tried not to care but I was just lying to myself. I remember that I once knocked the glass out of the table, its shattering contents earning an earful from mom and a trip to the bedroom. I sat up there, clenching the bed sheets tight breathing hot air hard through my nostrils, forcing the tears back into my burning eyes as they pooled in a funny place behind my flushed cheeks. When you came, my eyes were already brimming with tears but I've looked away and wiped them away asking you in a low voice what you wanted.

You didn't say anything, you ran up to me and held me tightly. You gave me silly "sowwy"s and "don't cwy"s in your little squeaky voice but I hugged you back anyway. The tears gave out at that point and they fell out like drops from a bottle of pure vanilla extract, but inside I felt warm and safe even in your chubby little arms…

You were always the one who was taller than me, even by a few millimetres. I didn't get mad at you when we measured our heights on that tree on your birthday. You smugly showed that you had indeed grown taller and in a much faster rate than me. But I didn't get mad, just a little upset. Okay, it's true, I felt defeated and I let out little tear droplets but I considered about the thought of you being taller than me and you know what? I kinda liked it back then.

You were always the one who jumped on me every time I accidentally fell asleep under the apple tree. You'd first sing softly, "Ring a round a rosies, a pocket full of posies…"

"Ashes, ashes…"

"We all fall DOWN!"

I always woke with a yell and a responsive squeal of joy from a very amused Winry standing close by. I'd shout child's curses and try to pry you off from my waist, you laughing and digging your nose into my shirt in a giggling sense of victory. But I didn't push away too hard, you know? Not because I was still a little tired from the disturbed nap but because after lying down in the shade so long, it was nice to have something warm wrapped around you as though it'll never let go.

You were always the one who remembered people's birthdays first, including my own. Once a year you shook me awake to wish me a happy birthday, and when you left the room would I realize that I'm a year older. And the area where you touched my shoulder felt as though it was still young unlike the rest of my body.

You were always the one who protected me from the bullets that didn't pierce your flesh, sharp steel that left vague white scratches instead of deep red gashes, the kick or a punch that came towards me while my human body had paralyzed itself in shock.

You were always the one who tried to knock sense into me, and literally _after_ the situation was over. It's always only after you touch me that I understand what you meant to say.

You were always the one who won whenever we sparred. Except for that one time in the hospital, but that was because I was angry at myself for not being able to understand without you and it was only when you threw a failed punch at me that vaguely brushed my shoulder did I understand what you were going through.

When we knocked our fists together I saw it all. I think it became our trademark symbol for our devotion to one another. I liked it. I liked it very much. It solved everything we've been through, all with a nice strong knuckle sandwich.

Even though it didn't bring Nina back, even though it didn't keep Envy away, even though it certainly didn't stop the Colonel's sarcastic remarks, it definitely solved the things that came between us. And that, I think, showed how powerful it was.

I reached out for you once in a train towards what I knew would bring me to you. And I caught a bit of sunlight in my hand and held it, feeling like it was you in between my metal fingers and relished it like hope. You are my hope, Al. When I close my fists I feel our love surge in those strong grips. My fists, of the same size as a human heart, squeezed tight on my skin under which my blood flowed only for you.

--

We don't do much of it anymore.

We've settled down in this different universe and accepted the hard reality that we'll never go back to the place where hands really did make all the difference. Here, solutions are far beyond our reach; even when we try to stretch our fingers as far as we can. And closing them just got its users into trouble. I've seen what the "police" do here, they're really afraid of their citizen's fists. Or the fingers cocking all those guns.

Because of that, we don't spar anymore either. We can't attract attention without people thinking we are training to bring down the government. We can't do it anyway, just about every free space available is occupied by some giant factory or another.

But it doesn't matter, right? All I need is you, and I got to say I'm thankful for the low wages around here; forces us to live in tight spaces and have fewer belongings and best of all, share a bed together.

How many nights have I spent already just looking at your sleeping face until I finally fell asleep? I really love that I can see you properly now, and just centimetres away from my face. I can even hold you, gingerly, without waking you up and with just that I feel light and worry-free. I've become such a sap, Al.

…Oh wait, I already was all along.

--

I touched your cheek again last night Al, and I felt something that wasn't there before.

Small stubs, the last stage of puberty. You've grown.

Once again, you beat me at being the one who grew earlier and faster than me. Your body is still eighteen but your final hormones are kicking in. Mine haven't until after you came, isn't that weird? It's been five years since then but it seems so long ago. You're no longer little Alphonse anymore, you're an adult now.

You're going to be faster than me at outgrowing dependence. When will you realize that you won't need me anymore?

--

…Al.

Thirty five years. Thirty five years and I still think of you. Five years ago, you teased on my birthday that I should go and get married soon otherwise I won't get married at all. What a sad Earth joke, why does it have to be obligatory at such an age? I don't think I ever will, I can't imagine myself in a happy family since there IS no "happy" without you.

But as you, as always being the one to do, went ahead and got married before me.

At the ceremony, I almost couldn't bring myself to speak as first man. I almost freaking cried up there, Al. And I'm freaking fifty five and I almost cried. Some man I am…I'm such a wuss.

She's nice though, saying how sweet I was standing up there flush and nervous and saying how you're the most important person to me. "Almost like a real father."

She was obviously hinting, you must have told her that I never had a girlfriend in my life. Worrying, right? Kind of too late, I believe. Too late to let you know, too late for me to see, too late, too late, too late! I'm always late! Later than you, slower than you, hardly ever catching up to you!

And who's the older brother?

It might as well be the other way around. Some brother I am.

I was too caught up with my dirty secret to realize that it was really going to all go away in a snap of fingers. I saw the signs, heck I _felt_ the damn signs but I was just idealizing every contact with your skin and didn't realize that I was clinging to you like some fucking otter to a clam or whatever the hell they eat. Damn animals…

I'm thirty five and still in love with you. They call this incest. Isn't incest supposed to go away? After a trauma, isn't it supposed to be temporary until the shock wears off? It still doesn't, Al, I can still feel the ghost of my right arm digging into my flesh…

--

Your little spunk of a son asked me why I'm not married. As soon as the question mark fell out of his lips you whisked him away, looking at me worriedly. Ha. So you think I'd get upset, huh? That was a long time ago, Al. Eight years to be precise. I'm over it. I, Edward Elric, doomed to be single for life. Let's all celebrate.

I'm just pulling your leg, of course let's not celebrate. Pretty damn sad life to have especially when you find out your own nephew, the spawn of your little brother, matured more than you have when you were their age. What was I doing at his age again? Oh yeah. Knocking milk bottles and crying over spilt milk. He can already write and knows what marriage is. What am I, lame? Bet Hohenheim gave me some genetic mutation that makes me slower than anybody whose blood contains yours.

Or not. I'm coming to realize, Al, it was my fault this whole time. I dragged myself down to be at the same level as you. I wanted to be like you, wanted to _be_ you. I admired you so much, for everything that you had the capacity of doing. Just one touch from you and I deflate from anger or sadness. Whereas in my case, everything I touched shattered. Before, I blamed myself for not telling you about how I felt but now I'm glad I didn't. I would've broken the fragile line that barely holds us together.

--

I'm so sorry, Al.

As soon as I heard from her I rushed out of the apartment, forgetting to lock the door and I went straight to your house. I saw you slumped over the desk, similar to when Winry found out her parents were dead. Except, it's your son who's dead.

I went over to you and I heard her leave the room, going upstairs to mourn her loss. I approached you but I hesitated. I haven't had direct contact with you in years and we're old men now, too old to hug anymore. I put a hand on your shoulder and crouched next to you trying to smooth away the pained expression on your face. It took a while to reach you and make you understand, but you finally got up to write a reply to the military and when you did, I looked down at my hand and felt a small pang of guilt: my touch didn't do anything to you.

I clenched my fist. The fist that was "powerful" and solved everything that came between us. Is this what it came down to? When it could've been used to smother away pain, it only came as a small weight pressing down on your shoulder? When your touches made me feel whole and complete, my palm did nothing to you but remind you that you still had me. But even that is not enough, I'm only your elder brother. An elder brother who did nothing for you.

--

Al.

You're dead.

You beat me again.

Now everybody thinks that you just died of some sickness since his elder sibling didn't die earlier than you. That's not true. I know you died peacefully; in your sleep to be exact. I'm glad it became like this. I'm glad it's me who has to mourn for the loss of their only brother. Let the burden fall on me, it's the way it should be.

I greeted your great grandchildren today and I've got to mention how remarkably alike they are to us. And, funny enough, to Winry too. I'm happy to say that your eldest one is taller than his brother and definitely knows how to handle responsibility more than I ever did. Maybe I was just the bad apple, supposed to show the world what a disgrace humans can be and to prevent it, God put future people's sins onto me and watched me suffer.

I've seen just about every bloody scene, heard every deadly scream, tasted bitter resentment, scented every tainted memory. But I couldn't get to touch for the last time your angelic skin so precious to me as it was for you. My only savior, and I couldn't grasp it.

You were always the one that I cherished the most.

You were always the one that I wanted the most.

You were always the one that I needed the most.

You were always the one.

Al, you were…my one and only one.


End file.
